Holding On
by stanzaic
Summary: Things go a little differently when Merry and Pippin escape into Fangorn Forest. Movie-verse.
1. Part I: Poisoning

_Movie-verse! Okay, so I just rewatched _Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_ for the fifty trillionth time, and it occurred to me how much I love Merry and Pippin. Plus I realized that Snaga (the orc that was trying to stab Merry in Fangorn) had like fifteen full seconds in which he could've stabbed him and didn't. And when Treebeard dropped them they practically floated happily to the ground. Plus I wondered what would have happened if it had been Saruman instead of Gandalf. So...voila! This story. :)_

_Warning: I suffer from FCMD, and I forgot to take my meds when I wrote this. ;) FCMD = Favorite Character Mutilation Disorder. I'm sorry, Merry! And Pippin!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I probably don't own these ideas either. But whatevs._

* * *

_Part I_

_Poisoning_

* * *

_I_t was colder than usual. There was a gentle breeze, pushing a few loose blonde curls into his face. If he had been anywhere else, if his hands hadn't been bound, he might have reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. But now he simply sighed. His hope felt watered down. All of his senses felt watered down – even his hungry stomach. The biting of his hunger had lowered to a dull ache.

He turned his head slightly. Pippin was on the back of an orc beside him. Pippin looked just as bored as he was; but Merry could tell that Pippin was still hopeful. Merry had to look away. Just as he could tell by a quick glance into Pippin's eyes that Pippin was filled with hope, he realized that Pippin could tell how hopeless Merry felt, and that would bring Pippin down if he saw.

Abruptly, the pack of orcs stopped. A sudden sense of weightlessness clutched Merry's stomach, and then he slammed into the ground, hard. If he hadn't already been numb, he might have winced. But he was too far past feeling pain. After so many days and nights of soreness and his lack of hope, there was nothing left for him to feel.

"We're not goin' no further," shouted the orc that had carried Merry, "till we've had a breather!" Merry silently agreed. He'd rather lie half-dead on the ground than be jostled about half-dead on the back of an orc.

Another orc, the leader, yelled, "Get a fire going!" The orcs all around began to swarm, doing various things. Merry gazed up at the night sky, watching the stars. Usually watching the stars brought him a sense of calm. But tonight, they made him angry. How could the stars be so carefree as to flit about, twinkling happily, in the sky?

A group of orcs galumphed past Merry. He watched them, bored again. They were hurrying into a cluster of trees. Merry stared at the trees for several seconds, trying to figure out where they were. He fuzzily recalled a map he'd seen once…forest…forest…ah, that was it. They were right beside Fangorn Forest. Merry swallowed and shifted to make himself more comfortable, shifted onto his side; he'd heard rumors about the trees being alive in Fangorn Forest…

"Merry!" Merry snapped his head toward Pippin. Pippin was crawling toward Merry, bonds making him unable to actually crawl – no, he wasn't crawling, he was dragging himself. Merry closed his eyes briefly, unable to face how pathetic Pippin looked, with his ragged hair and torn clothes and dirty face. "Merry!"

"Pippin," Merry answered, as Pippin came right up to his face. "I think we might have made a mistake in leaving the Shire, Pippin." He hadn't been able to help himself. He had to tell Pippin what he thought about this. They were never going to get out of here. They were going to die under torture, in Isengard.

Pippin tried to grin – he was probably going to play off Merry's words, brush them away, ignore them. He only ever did that when he knew that whoever he was trying not to heed was right. Merry shook his head the slightest bit.

Sounds of loud thumps came from in front of them, from the forest. The orcs were chopping down the trees. Merry swallowed again, fear rising up within him; what if those rumors were true? What if the trees really _were_ alive? Just as he thought it, loud moans like creaking trees came from Fangorn. Pippin blurted, "What's making that noise?"

Merry moved his weight so he was leaning on his elbows. He had to see this. He wanted to see these orcs crushed by those trees. Wait…what was he _thinking_? Those were just rumors, weren't they? But as more orcs chopped, more groans came. "It's the trees," Merry whispered.

"What?"

Merry glanced quickly down at Pippin, instantly annoyed. "Remember the old forest, on the borders of Buckland? Folks used to say there was something in the woods that made the trees grow tall…_and come alive_."

"Alive?"

"Trees that could whisper…talk to each other. Even…_move_."

Pippin and Merry stared at each other. Merry's numbness was fading into excitement. Perhaps, though, it should have been horror. They had no idea what these talking trees could do to them. They had no idea what these talking trees _wanted_ to do to them.

An orc interrupted the hobbits' conversation. "I'm starving!" he hollered. "We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days!"

Another agreed. "Yeah," he said loudly. "Why can't we have some meat?" Merry wouldn't have taken notice of the random conversation between the orcs if the bluish one's eyes hadn't alighted upon them at that very moment. "What 'bout them? They're _fresh_."

Merry immediately looked at the orc, horrified. But the leader orc, Uglúk, walked over, coming to their rescue. "They are not for eating." Merry and Pippin exchanged relieved looks. Out of the corner of his eye Merry saw the bluish orc twisting his head slightly, cracking his neck, still considering them.

Suddenly, something descended from above and snatched up Merry and Pippin at the same time. Merry let out a shocked exclamation right as Pippin did. Then he realized that the orc was pulling them away from the starved ones. But there were more, pressing in closer. One put in, "What 'bout their legs? They don't need those."

Merry glanced down. He liked his legs, he liked them very much. The orc that had picked them up released them, leaving them standing there, facing a crowd of meat-hungry orcs, bound. "Ooh, they look tasty!" The orc threw himself at the two hobbits. Merry flinched. Pippin stumbled backward slightly.

"Back off, Snaga!" shouted Uglúk, shoving him backward. But the others were getting restless, shifting about, reaching for their weapons. Merry felt nervous butterflies attempting to climb out his throat. "The prisoners go to Saruman – _alive_, and unspoiled!"

"Alive?" Snaga responded. Merry wasn't sure if that was the orc's name or just a put-down from Uglúk. It didn't matter either way, though, because Snaga was stepping toward the gap between the shoulders of two orcs that had come to stand in front of Merry and Pippin. "Why alive? Do they give good sport?"

"They have something," Uglúk tried to explain. "An Elvish weapon. Master wants it for the war." All the orcs around Merry and Pippin were snarling, saliva dripping from their mouths; Merry stepped closer to Pippin, unable to disguise his fear.

Pippin pressed his face closer to Merry's ear. "They think we have the Ring!"

"Shh!" Merry hissed. "As soon as they find out we don't, we're dead!"

There was a new sound from directly behind them. Pippin and Merry whirled around. The blue orc was lifting his weapon. "Just a mouthful – a bit off the flank!"

Then everything was moving too fast for Merry to comprehend. Uglúk sliced the head off the orc that had been attempting to eat the hobbits, and then the head came down, hitting Merry's shoulder. Merry twitched. Uglúk shouted, "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" The other orcs cheered, and they all dove in at once to get their fair share of the dead blue orc. Merry and Pippin were shoved to the ground.

Pippin twisted to look back and watch. Merry had something else in mind. "Pippin!" he whispered. "Let's go!" They began to drag themselves, crawling in that odd and pathetic fashion, toward Fangorn, away from the orcs. The ones that had been in the trees had exited, wanting some meat as well.

A foot slammed into Merry's back. He cried out, both surprised that one had caught them and scared that he was really going to get eaten now. The orc rolled him over, and Pippin turned over at the same time, to see what was going on. "Go – call for help!" Snaga exclaimed bitterly. He grabbed Merry's face and pulled him up toward him, raising a knife. "Squeal; no one's going to save you now." Merry started to whimper. He was going to die, right here and right now.

Then Snaga fell away, an arrow piercing him. Merry and Pippin both looked up, confused but grateful. Horses rode through, men on their backs throwing arrows and spears. Merry was separated from Pippin in the madness. "Pippin!" he blurted.

But even more chaos ensued. More horses charged, more orcs ran, and for half a second Merry could've sworn he heard Pippin scream in terror; out of nowhere, Pippin appeared, untied. Pippin quickly untied Merry and helped him to his feet. The duo began to run, trying to reach the forest. They dodged men, orcs, horses; and just as they were about to reach freedom, Merry was stopped in his tracks.

Snaga was still alive. He was reaching up from the ground. "The belt!" yelled Pippin. Merry quickly undid his belt, and they raced onward. Pippin lagged behind for half a second. "Run," Merry said, and they disappeared into the darkness of Fangorn.

They ran for several seconds more, until Pippin tripped and landed on the ground. Merry flopped down beside him, exhausted, even from that short sprint. They sat there panting. Pippin asked, "Did we lose him?"

"I think we lost him," Merry responded.

The sounds of rustling from nearby reached their ears. Merry had begun to grin. He lost his grin the instant he saw Snaga, yet again, stumbling out from behind a clump of bushes. "I'm going to rip out your filthy innards!" Snaga exclaimed angrily. Merry and Pippin started to run again, ducking behind a tree. "Come here!" Snaga yelled. He sounded closer. The two hobbits started to run again.

Merry heard Snaga coming even closer. "Trees," Merry said, shoving Pippin toward the nearest one. "Climb a tree!" He waited for Pippin to climb up to a higher branch before following; he paused to glance around them on a lower one. "He's gone," Merry said, smiling, relieved.

Of course, Snaga chose that moment to return.

Merry squealed as he was pulled from the tree branch to the ground. His breath was knocked out of him. Snaga loomed over him, anger written all over his ugly face. Merry kicked him in the nose, and Snaga turned toward him, looking even angrier. Merry tried to pull backwards. "Merry!" Pippin hollered from the tree.

Finally, Snaga was done with the chase. He grabbed Merry's left leg and threw his knife away. He opened his mouth – Merry screamed – and Snaga bit down, hard. But before he could rip a chunk of Merry's leg off, out of nowhere, a huge tree-foot came down and smashed Snaga into the ground.

"Run, Merry!" screeched Pippin. Merry struggled to his feet. Pain was coursing through him; did orcs have poison saliva? But Merry fought to run away from the tree, half-running, half-hopping. He tried to avoid putting weight on his injured leg. Every time he put weight on it, a spasm of agony zipped up his spine. It was almost a relief when a large tree-hand scooped him up.

The tree began to babble, but Merry wasn't focusing on that. For one thing, it was a tree. A _tree_ was talking to them. _A tree!_ For another, his bitten leg was burning; it felt as though flames were tearing at him. The only thing he could possibly focus on was the pain clawing at him. It was so bad he thought he was going to vomit all over the tree's huge bearded face.

He could feel, through the haze of pain, Pippin's concerned eyes on him. Then the tree began to squeeze them, harder and harder, tighter and tighter – Merry heard Pippin squeaking – he heard himself crying out – his leg felt as though it was being shredded to pieces – it hurt so _bad_ –

"Merry!" shouted Pippin. "Put us down! Put us down! We're hobbits, not orcs!"

The tree was bellowing now. Pippin was trying to shout over the sound. "We're hobbits, Halflings, from the Shire!" Merry closed his eyes, gripping the tree's big hand, trying to fight through wave upon wave of pain. Why wouldn't he black out?

_Because he had to be here. He had to help Pip._

Merry flung his eyes open. "I swear we're not orcs," he yelled. "I – _gah _-" for a moment, he thought he wouldn't be able to finish. The moment passed. " – why would an orc have been trying to kill me and have _bitten_ me if we were orcs!"

"Merry, it bit you?" Pippin exclaimed. He started to pound on the tightly curled fist of the tree. "Put – us – _down_!"

And then, it did.

"We shall ask the White Wizard if you are orcs," the tree creaked. Merry landed in an awkward position on the same leg that had been bitten; Merry screamed; a sickening crack rent the air. Pippin landed on one of his arms, and there was another crack, but Pippin held in his own cry of pain.

The two hobbits lifted their heads at the same time. The flash of white light was so bright that Merry closed his eyes, and that was all the instruction his body needed. He dropped to the ground and fell into welcome unconsciousness.


	2. Part II: Questioning

_Hello again! :) Thanks for reading, and I hope you people enjoy this chapter; also, many apologies for the shortness! I meant this to be longer, but I couldn't get anything else down that sounded good._

_Disclaimer: I don't own _Lord of the Rings_, obviously._

* * *

_Part II_

_Questioning_

* * *

_W_hen Merry opened his eyes, the first thing that struck him was that he was no longer in the forest. Leaves weren't scratching at the back of his head; therefore, he must not have been lying on the ground of Fangorn Forest anymore. He struggled to sit up, and when he did, more pain ricocheted around his body. With the pain came the memories.

"Pip," Merry quickly uttered. He turned slightly. He was in a large room, with a high, domed roof. Merry suddenly realized that the White Wizard…

…must have been Saruman.

Anxiety brought his eyebrows together. He could think about his leg later. Now he just had to worry about Pippin.

Pippin was slumped in another corner of the room, looking haggard. He was asleep. Merry relaxed back against the cold tiled floor, resting his head against it. What was he supposed to do now? What was he going to do about this? How could he possibly bother attempting to escape if he couldn't even _move_?

"Merry?"

Merry sat back up as swiftly as he could. "What is it, Pip?" He turned himself the tiniest bit, unable to do more than that. Not only was he hurting, his hands and feet were bound again. "Are you all right?"

Pippin was sitting up. He nodded tiredly. "I'm fine. I'd be better if we weren't here." He sighed. "I'd be better if we were anywhere else."

"Me too," Merry said. He pulled his knees toward himself and draped his hands around them, resting his chin on them as well. "What are we going to do, Pippin?"

There was a long silence. Finally Pippin answered. "I don't know, Merry." A few more seconds, and then, "I don't know."

* * *

_T_hey frittered away the hours sitting and doing absolutely nothing at all. Merry didn't even bother planning an escape route. Instead, he sat there, thinking about what had gone down and what was going to fall further down. And what about those trees? Would they be here to help, in their time of need?

Abruptly, two orcs came tromping in. Merry and Pippin both started, flinching. One of the orcs laughed nastily. "You two are comin' with us," said the other, grabbing Merry by the back of his collar. The laughing orc grabbed Pippin by the back of his.

The orcs half-dragged, half-carried the hobbits into a huge room, even huger than the one they'd been kept in before. Merry couldn't even see the ceiling. It occurred to him for a millisecond that there might not have been one at all.

Merry took a quick look at his surroundings. Pippin was doing the same. There were grey stone walls, the orcs holding him and Pippin, and worst of all, Saruman and Gríma Wormtongue.

"Hobbits," sneered Saruman, "tell us what you know about the Ring."

Merry clamped his jaw shut and hoped Pippin would do the same. Saruman waited for five full minutes before asking again. "What do you know about the Ring?"

"Not telling," Pippin blurted. Merry shot him a look. Pippin shrugged one shoulder the best he could. Merry glanced back at Saruman. What would the White Wizard do now?

Saruman, though, was smiling. How odd. He murmured something, and suddenly, Pippin was writhing around in the grip of the orc that held him. Merry fought to get to Pippin. _What in all of Middle-Earth was happening to his cousin!_

"Stop it!" Merry bellowed. "Stop it!"

Pippin stopped wriggling. He slumped over in the orc's arms, unconscious. "What did you do to him?" Merry whispered with a rising sensation of horror.

Saruman and Wormtongue smiled at the same time. Merry shivered at the eeriness of the gesture. "That is what happens when you do not give Saruman what he wants," Wormtongue hissed. "Saruman will get what Saruman wants."

Stubborn still, Merry shook his head. Pain shot through him; his insides were flaming, his bones were splitting, his eyes were searing, everything was hurting –

Then it ended. Merry realized numbly that he'd been biting his lip so hard he'd drawn blood. With a dull sense of satisfaction and pride mixed together, Merry knew that he hadn't even let out a single yelp. Saruman was glaring at him, irritation clear. "You want some more, I see," Saruman said, and pointed his staff at Merry.

Merry didn't even last for five seconds. He blacked out almost instantly.

* * *

_N_ever before had his old roots felt something so strong. Never before had the Ents been so restless. Never before had he known regret. Never before had he heard of such things as hobbits. But now was a new era, and now he knew all of it, most especially regret. Why had he handed the two little ones over to the White Wizard? Why was the White Wizard out here in Fangorn, anyway?

Treebeard continued on his way. He had a council meeting set up for tonight, when the stars were high in the navy sky, when the sky's candle was lowered beyond the horizon. With the help of the others he would be able to decide what to do. As of now, he had no idea which option he should take; he had too many of them. He could crash Isengard, for no reason at all. He could gather the trees and mash as many orcs as they could, for too many reasons. He could settle back down until the wars were over, for no reason other than laziness. He could find the White Wizard…he could help those hobbits…but for what reason?

He wasn't sure.

Treebeard entered the clearing where the council meeting was to be held. Only a few of the other Ents were already gathered. Treebeard looked around at them.

They had to know what to do. If they didn't…

* * *

_I_sengard.

The hobbits were at Isengard.

Even thinking about it made him want to shiver. So Aragorn tried to stop thinking about it. They'd tracked the hobbits into Fangorn Forest after encountering the Riders of Rohan; they'd met Gandalf the White in the woods, and he explained his mysterious reappearance; they'd ridden to Rohan and returned Théoden the king to himself; and now, they were headed toward Isengard, with absolutely no plan backing them up.

But the hobbits…the hobbits would be at Isengard. Poor Merry and Pippin. They had nothing to do with the Ring, nothing to do with it at all. In fact, they shouldn't have even been on his horrifying journey. They should have been back in their homes, eating, drinking, smoking, enjoying themselves…

Aragorn shook his head slightly. The hobbits were going to be fine. They had to be fine. All of the hobbits did; Sam, Frodo, Merry, Pippin…in fact, none of them should have been anywhere near the Ring.

Aragorn sighed. Gandalf knew what he was doing. He had to settle down and trust the wizard.


	3. Part III: Torturing

_Yep, I'm back. Just took me like two years. Haha, I fail._

_You really think I own this? I'll take that as a compliment._

* * *

_Part III_

_Torturing_

* * *

Dammit – why was he waking up? He'd hoped he never had to wake up again. Shouldn't that orc poison have already taken him from Middle-Earth? Shouldn't it have killed him by now? Instead, he was forced to open his eyes, see the cold light of day seeping in through the nearest window, covering everything with grey light.

Merry turned his head. He winced. His skull was throbbing, probably from the two bits of torture he'd endured. He had no idea how long ago he'd endured them. He hoped that it had been at least a day; he needed the sleep.

Pippin was lying directly beside him. Merry quickly checked and saw that Pippin's chest was slowly rising and falling – the shorter hobbit was still lost, deep in sleep. Loneliness suddenly filled Merry. He wanted Pippin to wake up so they could talk this over, so they could figure something out, so they could get out of Isengard. But Pippin kept sleeping. Merry gazed at Pippin's peaceful face, envious of the calm. In those moments, Merry felt as though he'd never be calm or peaceful ever again, much less content. He was going to be a sore and bitter hobbit for the rest of his life.

If he had enough time left to be sore and bitter, anyway.

Merry turned his head back round, in order to stare up at the ceiling. He was back in the domed room from the first time he'd woken. He supposed that was better than being in the presence of Wormtongue or Saruman, or even a couple of orcs. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, silently willing sleep to return to him and engulf him in its black flames. But through the darkness, the blood-red flames of anguish pricked his leg and his cranium and his insides in general. Merry snapped his eyes open. No, he wouldn't be able to sleep again, not for a long while.

His stomach growled. He thought wistfully of the Green Dragon, and the good food. His mouth began to water, and Merry tried to dispel all the thoughts of goodness. He wasn't going to torture himself on the inside like he was being tortured on the outside.

There were footsteps nearby. For a second, Merry hoped that Pippin would be up and moving. He glanced over to make sure, and saw that Pippin was still sound asleep. Merry swallowed, fear rising in the form of a bitter bile in his throat. He looked toward the door next, and just as he looked, it swung open; an orc tromped in.

"Saruman wants you again," the orc snarled. "Get up." Merry didn't bother, knowing the orc would come over and grab him whether he tried to stand or not. The orc did precisely as Merry had expected by storming over and grabbing the back of his collar. They traveled out of the room, leaving Pippin in his peaceful dreamworld, and back to Saruman's throne room – or whatever it was.

The orc threw Merry to the ground before Saruman and promptly exited. Merry looked up, and when he did, his neck cracked painfully. He barely restrained a cringe. Wormtongue wasn't in the room this time.

It was only him and Saruman.

Saruman smiled – no, it was more like a baring of his teeth, like a wild dog before a horrible and gory fight to the death. "We searched you in your sleep," Saruman said, drumming his fingers on his knee. "I didn't find the Ring on you." He tilted his head slightly to the right, raising his eyebrows in a quizzical expression. "So where have you hidden it?"

Merry bit his lip, anxious. What was he supposed to say now? If he said they didn't have the Ring, they'd both be killed. If he said nothing at all, they'd be tortured to death. Either way, they were going to die. He wondered which death he preferred. Both would be gruesome. Merry decided that it would be better to go down valiantly shielding Frodo and Sam from Saruman and Sauron than dying a weakling's death.

So he laid his head back down on the ground and said nothing, waiting for it to come.

* * *

Where was Merry? The domed room was empty, frighteningly empty. Pippin struggled to sit up. The instant he was in sitting position, he heard a faint scream, emanating from the left wall. Pippin swallowed.

He knew that voice.

"Merry," he whispered, pushing himself backward until he was leaning up against the wall with the window. "Mer." Pippin closed his eyes and lowered his head, utterly defeated. There was nothing he could do, and his closest friend, his flesh and blood, was being tortured to death on the other side of that left wall.

Meriadoc Brandybuck was going to die, and there was nothing Pippin was doing about it.

Determination flooded him. Sure, he was achy from that run-in with Saruman the day before, and his right arm still sizzled, having broken when Treebeard dropped them to the ground randomly, but something had to be done.

Pippin hopped to his feet. His head was pounding, and now his heart was too. He didn't even have a plan. But he knew that trying something was much better than doing nothing. He stumbled over to the door and began to slam against it, bellowing "MERRY!" again and again, a mantra, repeated for both his and Merry's sake. The echoing of his own voice made him feel less alone.

He screamed for Merry until his voice was hoarse. It was then that the door opened. Pippin was flung back to the ground. An angered orc was standing there, legs spread apart, arms folded. "Shut up!" the orc ordered. Somewhere beyond, there was another scream, but this one wasn't as strong as the ones before. Pippin's eyes widened in fear. Merry was losing strength…Merry was dying…

Pippin narrowed his eyes. "I hate you!" he screeched, directed at the orc, before jumping to his feet and plowing into him. The orc fell backwards, and somehow ended up tumbling down the stairs. Pippin watched for a few seconds, shocked that he'd been able to do anything at all.

He leapt into action. He sliced off his bonds with a knife the orc had left lying in front of the door, then untied his feet. Pippin swiftly darted down the stairs, following the sounds of Merry's voice. There wasn't any screaming anymore – he wasn't sure if he was glad or not about it – but there were still some occasional yelps.

Pippin raced along, and whenever he came upon an orc, he stabbed it in the stomach with his new sword. His stomach clenched violently whenever he did so, and his gag reflex tried to take hold of him; but Merry's life was at stake here. Pippin focused on that and managed to make it through.

Finally he reached the room that was evidently where Merry was being tortured. Pippin hesitated. How many orcs were inside? But it didn't matter to him, not anymore. He burst into the room, and he stopped in his tracks, horrified by what he saw.


	4. Part IV: Welcoming

_Huzzah for updates! :) Thanks for the review, Rivan Warrioress! :D This is the next-to-last part._

_It's flattering that you think I own_ Lord of the Rings_. It's sad that I have to tell you the truth: I don't._

* * *

_Part IV_

_Welcoming_

* * *

Treebeard looked down at Isengard, and hatred filled him. His leaves ruffled, and he turned to his fellow Ents to holler, "RELEASE THE RIVER!" Yes, it was a good plan. This would distract Saruman and kill off all of his orcs, those orcs that chopped, hacked, and burned.

Treebeard watched as the killing commenced. Yes, it was a very good thing that the council had agreed with him. For the heck of it, the Ent lumbered over and picked up an orc. "For the trees," Treebeard creaked, and hurled the orc as far as he could. The orc landed with a satisfying splash.

The Ent got down to business, throwing orcs here and there. Other Ents were doing the same. And then the river came crashing down, washing away all of the orcs that were left behind. Treebeard stood still until the water settled. He turned toward the tower of Isengard, looking at the top of the tower. There was a lone figure in white standing there, hair blowing in the wind.

Treebeard glared at Saruman. "Come down!" Treebeard bellowed. "Come down and see what we have done!" Saruman, being the coward he was, backed up on his balcony, and disappeared back into the tower. Treebeard made a snarling noise and turned toward the nearest Ent.

"We need those hobbits," he rasped, and they really did get down to business then.

* * *

There were strange sounds coming from Isengard ahead. Aragorn dug his heels into Brego's side, and the horse quickened his pace. Aragorn passed Legolas and Gimli, and soon he was at the front, beside Gandalf.

"What's happening up there?" Aragorn heard himself whisper. Gandalf didn't even spare him a glance. Aragorn realized that Gandalf probably didn't want Aragorn to know. How horrible was it? What was even happening? It sounded like rushing water and trees crashing to the ground, with the occasional screech of an injured orc.

They came to a halt at the edge of the forest. Legolas muttered something in Elvish; he'd muttered it too low and too fast for Aragorn to bother translating. Gandalf lifted his staff. Aragorn drew his sword. They all would have launched themselves into the battle if it hadn't been for the Ent that suddenly halted in front of them.

"Gandalf the White," the Ent groaned. "Welcome."

Gimli evidently had the sudden urge to snicker. He didn't repress it.

"Isengard is ours," the tree continued, "but Saruman remains in his tower. We have two of ours trapped inside with him. I fear what he may do."

Aragorn swallowed. "What two?" he demanded. He felt Gandalf's eyes on the side of his head. "What two!"

"Two hobbits," the Ent responded, and Aragorn's heart sank. He'd hoped that wasn't going to be the answer. "We were all about to go inside to fetch them." Aragorn had to wonder how the Ents were going to manage to fit themselves through the door. He shook off the ridiculous thoughts of Ents running into the sides of the tower and tried to focus on the situation at hand.

"Let's attack!" Gimli suggested, lifting his axe. But Gandalf shook his head, raising a hand, signaling for silence.

"I shall take care of this," Gandalf said. He lifted his staff, pointed it at the tower, and began to murmur. Aragorn felt something odd stirring in the air around them. The Ent stepped back several times. For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Aragorn was suddenly bored, although he was very tense. Perhaps he was just casting about for something else to ponder on. He looked at their surroundings. There were trees, many trees, and water spilling over from the grounds of Isengard into the forest. The tower was looming above it all, looking dark and cold. Directly to Aragorn's right was a huge hunk of rock, with a flat top, sticking up above the water but still under the canopy of the trees. He stared at the rock for a while.

Suddenly, the rock wasn't sitting there alone; there were two new forms atop it. One of them, the standing one, was slashing around with a sword. The other was lying unconscious on the ground, soaked in blood.

Pippin Took turned round. His brown eyes widened, and he dropped to his knees, throwing the sword away. It splashed somewhere in the water beyond. He buried his face in his hands. "You're here," he said. Aragorn heard hitches in Pippin's voice and knew, with a feeling of discomfort, that the hobbit was sobbing. "You're here."

"We're here," Gandalf said, moving Shadowfax over to stand beside the rock. Gandalf offered his hand up to Pippin, and Pippin removed his hands from his face, taking Gandalf's hand in his left. He swung himself onto Shadowfax behind Gandalf. "Peregrin, what has occured?"

Aragorn wanted to know, too. He urged Brego forward the slightest bit, to make sure he heard everything. "We escaped into Fangorn Forest, away from the orcs, but…Saruman found us." Pippin sniffled and hiccuped. Aragorn was suddenly full of hatred, all directed at Saruman; it was because Aragorn could recall the carefree Pippin that the young hobbit used to be. "He tried to get us to tell him about the Ring…he thought we had it. He tried to get everything out of me first, but – but I fell unconscious. I guess…I guess Merry stayed conscious…"

Aragorn looked anxiously at the other hobbit, still unconscious on the rock. Merry was bleeding from a variety of wounds. He was missing his cloak and his waistcoat, and his shirt was badly buttoned, as if someone had thrown it back on him and not even bothered to button it correctly. There was a gash on the side of his head, but that looked days old. Merry's left leg looked the worst. It was purplish and yellowy, like it was bruised; spreading from a strange crescent-shaped puncture were what looked like long black veins. Aragorn took a deep breath.

"Poison," he whispered. There were slight gasps from the people of the company behind him. Aragorn narrowed his eyes, hating Saruman even more. He walked Brego over to the rock, reached over carefully, and lifted Merry. The hobbit remained unconscious.

Aragorn arranged Merry carefully in front of him. He exchanged a long look with Legolas, who also seemed to be thinking that they would never speak with Merry again. Pippin was crying quietly into the folds of Gandalf's robes.

And they started on the long road to healing.


End file.
